Avatar: The Bender Games
by wotansknot
Summary: Amon ends the life of Avatar Korra and takes control of Republic City; The Bender Games follows the events unfolding for pro-bender Bandon Sheng, as he is drawn into the seventy-fourth annual Bender Games, that many years following Avatar Korra's death. Will avoid coarse language, but fight scenes are inevitable. Set in Avatar world.
1. I Once Knew A Bender

_You turn twelve, and you can either line up in front of President Amon and have your bending locked, or you can keep it, and train to be a pro-bender with your name in the proverbial hat._

_You turn twelve, and you can stand in front of the President while he looks down on you with disdain, or you can hide in plain sight, in the pro-bending arena._

_You turn twelve, and you can be forced into bravery, or lapse into cowardice._

_You turn twelve, and you can live in safety, or live in fear. Live in fear of the Bender Games._

* * *

I woke without the realisation that it was the Day of Reaping, but it didn't take long to remember. I'd been in the draw for five years now. Seventeen years old had never felt so ancient. This was the year I'd be able to put my father's name down to have his bending returned to him. My chances of being reaped were doubled every year.

When I was twelve, I had one ticket with my name on it. When I was thirteen, two tickets. And when I was fourteen, I stepped into the ring. Our team came seventeenth in the pro-bending tournament that year. Seventeen more tickets with my name were entered that year. I turned fifteen; we came thirteenth. I had forty-six tickets in the draw, each one with the name Bandon Sheng.

Last year we did well. We came third. No extra tickets for the top five teams. We're too precious. We make too much money. And still, our captain was drawn, reaped, and tossed into the fire of the games. His fire didn't protect him much. He died in the skirmish at the cornucopia.

It occurred to me, as I showered, that somewhere in the city, there was a man - it could have been a woman, but I imagine a man - writing my name on a piece of paper. And then he drops it in a huge barrel. And then he takes another piece of paper and writes my name again.

I sobbed in the shower for fifteen minutes, imagining this being done sixty-two times. Sixty-two chances to be reaped. Maybe it was a good omen that I'd never known anyone to have been reaped with so many chances. Maybe it was lucky to have so many chances. It was still small by proportion. There were a lot of other earth benders like me in Republic City.

That wasn't entirely true, of course. There were a lot of other earth benders who were better than me, and there were a lot who were worse. Mostly, though, there were a lot of earth benders who couldn't earth bend.

I dried off, and pulled on my sweatpants. I toweled my hair heavily and left the towel on the floor. That was me. That was my Reaping Day tradition. Either I'd clean my room the night following reaping, or the towel would grow mould before my mother would have the heart to go into my room to clean.

They were already awake, my mother and father; Esha and Chang Sheng.

"Good morning, mother. Good morning, father," I said.

Mother looked from the table where she sat with a bowl of cereal and mimicked a smile beneath red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes. My own began to well up with tears at the sight. "Mama," I said, breaking a little.

"Come with me, Bandon," my father said, abandoning the dishes he was drying. I gulped and followed. My mother held out her hand to me, and I touched her as I passed.

We sat in the living room, surrounded by photographs of all my wins in the ring. I looked from one to the next, trying to remember the person I'd been when the photos had been taken. Had I been a strong young man like my father would want me to be? Had I been lovable by my mother, or by anyone? I hoped I hadn't been arrogant. That person felt so distant. That person felt so far away now.

"You know what I'm going to tell you, don't you, Bandon?" my father asked, with a hand outstretched and placed on my knee.

I looked up into the sincerity of his expression, and only knew how to answer with the truth. "I have to be strong, and face my destiny. I've made my decision, and I'm to live with it, like a true earth bender."

"Oh, Bandon," my father said. "There's no such thing as a true earth bender. Not any more. We're not all stubborn and incapable of change. You have to know that." It was a tear-filled day for us all, and my father seemed to be only barely resisting it.

"B-but... what about the stories you told? The stories of the badger moles and the metal bending police from before the Equalist Empire?" I heard my voice crack, but I fought on through speech. "Even you've had to stand by your choices. You threw your bending away, and now you tell me I should do the same thing, after I've done all this?" I waved my arm wildly at the photographs, knocking one back against the wall it leaned against. It fell on its face, and with the tinkle of breaking glass, I looked at my father's sullen face.

"I'm sorry, my son. I just can't bear to see you go. You're our only son," he said. He stood up, and looked down at where I sat, tiny on the lounge chair. "I chose to be locked away in myself, Bandon. You chose to have a choice. I'm only telling you that there's still time to be alive."

"Dad," I said.

He turned back to me while he stood in the doorway of the kitchen. My mother stepped forward to hold him from behind.

"I'm sorry I said what I said. But I can't give it away now."

"We can understand that, Bandon," my mother said. She was crying now, as was my father.

We hugged, and I left.

* * *

The pro-bending arena had been rebuilt and refurbished over the years. It was almost ten times its original size, with four distinct rings for pro-bending. There was already a thronging crowd of benders outside the main entrance, clamouring for attention from the Equalist officers standing up on their high platforms with clipboards and loud speakers.

I walked with my hands dug deep in my pockets to pass the crowd. It was like this every year - the desperate and the weak, who were already too scared of the pro-bending matches, who were already too scared of their own bending, who were already too scared of the game. It was embarrassing, to see all of them so desperate to kneel before Amon now that the Reaping was so real in front of them.

In the crowd, I could see a particularly tall man, who I recognised from pro-bending. He was looking around, clearly embarrassed to be there. He was the fire bender from the Zebraboons. They were usually a top-five team, but this year they'd been knocked down to eighth place. I could only imagine how many tickets had his name on them this year for him to be so scared, when I knew he'd be old enough by next year to not fear the games any more.

Finally, I got myself inside. The crowd's shouting had taken on angry tones. That happened every year, too. The police would drop in soon, and all the benders would have their bending taken while they kneeled on the cold steel floors of a prison cell, where they would know only regret in the last moments before Amon stood over them.

I'd heard others talk about it. Nobody who went to the gates of the pro-bending arena on the Reaping Day felt good about giving their bending away, even when it confirmed their safety.

Hana and Shan were already in the gym, working out.

"Hey," said Hana as I dropped my backpack on the floor, and pulled my jacket off.

"Hey guys. Sixty-two," I said. I punctuated it with a quick uppercut, flinging a nearby rock disc into the air. It landed on the floor on the other side of the gymnasium, smashing.

"That... that isn't good, Ban. How many did Koray have when he got taken?"

"Forty-something," I said. "What's up with you, Shan?" Our fire bender, Shan, had been beating a punching bag senseless when I entered, but now he just sat there on the ground, staring up at the scorch marks he'd left on the leather of the bag.

He looked over at Hana and I. "Over one hundred is what's _up_, Ban. You think sixty-two is a lot? The team I was on before I joined you guys wasn't great. I don't even remember how many tickets they go through every year just for writing my name on. And you come in here all cool like everything's fine, but it _isn't_, Ban."

Hana rushed to Shan's side, kneeling with her arms around his shoulders. "It's alright, Shan," she said. "Ban didn't know. I didn't even know."

They whispered together, while I stood here, dumbfounded. And then they kissed, and I was even more surprised.

"What was that?" I asked.

Hana brushed her fingers through her hair, and they looked toward me. "We've got to think about each other, Ban," Shan said. "Hana's got sixty-two as well. There's every chance all three of us could end up taken. We want to go to Amon today, while there's still a chance."

I had to sit down. One of the large stone cubes was nearby. I'd never once been able to move one, until now. I looked at it, dug my feet in, and jutted my fists together outstretched toward it. Hana and Shan watched, with their mouths agape.

Very slightly, the huge cube began to lift and slide across the floor as I pulled my fists into my chest. I reset my fists and pulled again, this time pulling back my lower fist faster. The cube began to tumble as it lifted further into the air. I had to side step as it came to slow down nearby me.

I dropped it, and it crunched into the varnished wood flooring, splintering several boards. I climbed on top of it, and sat on the edge for a minute, catching my breath. My brow was still set with the intensity of my glare, and I turned my gaze on my friends.

"If I'm reaped, I'll be holding my own. If you think there's every chance we'll all be reaped, I don't see how you wouldn't think that's for the better. Together, we're the Batterflies. Together, we're safe."

Shan was the first to stand up. "I-I'm sorry, Ban, but we've got to go. Try not to hurt yourself, okay?"

It was Hana who turned around as I watched them leave. She blew a kiss, and sent a friendly smile my way. It didn't make me feel any better.

It was the end of the Batterflies.

* * *

I once knew a bender who ended up in a coma in the Republic City hospital after taking an earth disc to the head. The disc hadn't been meant for his head, but he'd just been tripped by a lash of fire from the opposing fire bender.

That bender hadn't lasted long in the hospital. He got two hours of healing, but his brain gave out.

That was the year Koray got sent into the Games. It wasn't a good year.

I almost lost my spot in the tournament that year for an illegal move. I felt like I understood what he must have felt when Hana and Shan walked out. Of course, I hadn't known him well. Not well enough to be scared of sending a ten kilo earth disc hurtling through the air at him.

That bender was a pretty good guy from what I'd understood. There was a memorial put up outside the stadium; a wall of plaques, each with the names, dates, and elements of the benders who had been casualties in a league bending match.

"Up and coming pro-bending star." Those were the words they used to describe him. The same words were being used earlier this year to describe me. It didn't sit right in me. I knew it was just words. Just a phrase they'd used before and would certainly be using again.

The Batterflies weren't to be up and coming any more. And as all these thoughts flew through my head, I just kept moving through my forms. I dug in and punched, left and left and right, sending clay discs from pre-made stacks at the practice nets. Each one landed in with a resounding swish.

I followed with an uppercut, and pulled in quickly, practicing my shield. The disc came to a stop, floating a few feet in front of me, ready to disperse water or fire.

The motions for kicks came naturally. I'd been bending on a constant basis for five years straight. Every now and then there came a niggling in the back of my head, and I had to wonder: what comes next?

I stopped, my arms dead and limp by my sides. What did come next? I got tired and panted, sweat dripping from my face and arms. That was all that ever came next. I'd go to first aid and clean off the scorch marks, and cough up water I'd inhaled if I got knocked off the ring.

What came next was pain. I felt a sense of karmic justice.

We could have come first next year. It wasn't impossible. But, then again, they said the same thing about The Polaroos, the team whose earth bender I'd put in hospital.

We could have even volunteered for the Games and we'd come out on the other side. Only twice before in all seventy three previous games years has an entire pro-bending team been drawn. Both of those years, the teams had been allowed a special exemption to the rules, and were allowed to win as a pro-bending team, despite their differing elements.

They were legends in pro-bending history. The first team had retired after. They were too old to continue they said. But the next team of winners... they kept pro-bending after, and they won the league three years in a row before retiring, undefeated.

I'd finished my warm down, and I shook out my arms and legs and made my way to the showers. It was already two o'clock. I'd need to be home soon to go to the drawing with my parents.

As I entered the hallway to the showers, I looked up at a long line of photographs on both walls.

I once knew a bender who put another bender into a coma with an illegal headshot. On the day his friends left him behind - the day of the drawing of the seventy-fourth annual Bender Games - he became a different bender. He became a bender who considered volunteering as tribute. Be became a bender ready to fight, and kill.

I once knew myself, but no longer.

* * *

"How was training, Bandon?" my mother asked. I hadn't expected her to be there, waiting for me in the kitchen.

"It was fine," I lied. She saw through me, but she didn't say anything. Not yet. That would come later.

It was then I noticed the towel she was folding.

"You're folding my towel."

She looked at me, and I knew she could see my heartbreak. It was the final piece of the puzzle, and the image was one of my downfall. It was all I needed to cement in my mind what had to come next.

"Yes, sweetheart," she said. She gulped. "Is that okay? I just waned to do some cleaning."

"It's okay, mum. Everything's okay now."

"I can tell it isn't," she said. "Bandon, tell me what's wrong."

I smiled. "Nothing's wrong any more, mum. I've got it all figured out."

She dropped the towel on the back of the couch where she stood and went limp. "I'm worried about you, Bandon."

I sat down on the seat on the far side of the room from her and let my breath come out in a rushing sigh. "The Batterflies are gone, mum. Hana and Shan decided to go to Amon today. I suppose Dad would be happy. I suppose he'd want me to join them?"

"He just wants you to be okay, Bandon. We both do. We don't want to lose our son," she said.

I stood up, and I walked over to her with my arms out. We embraced, and I held her tightly. She was a tiny woman. It was almost hard to believe she was born of other earth benders with such a tiny frame. "You aren't going to lose me," I whispered into her ear. "I'm not lost. Not yet."

We heard my father's foot thumps coming up the stairs then, and I let my mother go. I prepared to stand in front of my parents and tell them what I'd come home to say.

"Hello?" he said as he came through the door. His first thought must have been of confrontation the way we both stood there - mother standing by the couch, looking expectantly at the door while she folded. And then there was me, standing with my hands by my sides. "What's going on?"

"Mother. Father. I want you both to sit down over here," I said, returning over to my seat by the far wall.

"What's going on, Bandon?" my mother said. It was she who was most surprised, and that surprised me in turn.

"I have something to tell you both."

I waited until they were comfortably seated. Their hands were entwined, my father's big, my mother's small. I could see the fear and sadness in their expression. She was close to tears. He was agitated, ready to pounce, and yet there was softness in his stare.

"I'm going to volunteer today," I said.

There was an uproar in our apartment. It was both sudden and shocking, and I lost the plot of the conversation for the next several minutes. My father was on his feet, roaring, "Why?" Screaming, "How could you do this to us?" Shouting, "What possesses you to do this to yourself?"

My mother, all the while, sobbed into her open palms, until it all dwindled down to her hysterics, and my father had to hold her, rocking her in his arms.

I swallowed, and took in a deep breath. "I know you must hate me for this, but I've thought a lot about it."

"Oh, really?" My father's tone was one of fury. "Oh, you've thought about this, have you? Have you thought about what it'll be to your mother and I if we have to bury you?"

"Dad," I said, trailing off. "I... I know, but I don't have Hana and Shan to rely on anymore. They've gone to Amon today. And if I don't get drawn this year, then next year I have to rely on some new team. I could very well get drawn next year, and you know what's happening next year, dad. I want to go into it willingly, and I want to do it this year, where at least I might have the chance."

He was fuming, and mother had only just finished sobbing.

"I understand, Bandon," she said. My father looked at her, his eyes once more aflame. "If that's what you want, then I support you. You're a strong bender, and we believe in you."

"Thanks, mum," I said, but my voice was tiny, and I didn't feel like half the earth bender I needed to be.

I once knew a bender who stood up in front of the President and told him they wanted to live. My mother was the strongest earth bender I knew, and she hadn't bent properly a single day of her life.


	2. The Reaping Ceremony

The largest of the four pro-bending arenas in Republic City was the scene of the Republic City Reaping. A huge fabric screen hung in the middle of the ring showing the projection of President Amon's masked face from where he stood up on the President's Balcony.

All four arenas were filled to overflowing with Equalists and benders alike. It was a peaceful event. History had taught us much about not rebelling at events where the President was in attendance. The last time a bender tried to incite rebellion at an official Bender Games event, he was dragged before the President, forced to his knees, and after Amon took his bending, four Equalists beat him to death in the middle of the arena. His blood showered against the picture screen.

We benders didn't rebel after that. It cemented even further the power that Amon had over us.

The year after that, there were a lot more new trainee pro-benders. Not many wanted to go up in front of the President after that.

But this year, he looked the same as always. He stood on his balcony, presiding over us like we were schoolchildren. Occasionally he'd disappear toward the back of his balcony to go and look out over a different balcony. It was the benefit of his balcony - he had access to the four arenas from one central location.

And then he was back here, in the largest, to look out over we who were to be reaped for the games.

It was easier to watch the screen, where his mask with its imposing red dot was almost twenty feet tall, with his dark hair falling out and around the edge of the mask, framing it more like a face than ever before. Gone was the hood Amon had once worn whenever he appeared. Instead, he wore three-button suits with dark red, green, and blue ties. He wore the colours of the elements like warnings.

He stepped up to the podium on our end of his balcony and cleared his throat. On the screen, he was quite formidable and with the amplification of speakers, he was everywhere.

"Another year gone. The Games arrive once more," he began. His voice was deep, and would be sweet if he didn't seem so sour. "The seventy-fourth annual Bender Games have come to The Republic once more, and in a few minutes, we'll be watching the reaping in the Water Tribes. In the Earth Kingdom. In the Fire Nation. And finally we'll be reaping the pro-benders of Republic City."

He paused for a moment, and dipped his head so that a few strands of his charcoal coloured hair slipped over his mask. He pushed them back; an odd gesture to watch, knowing it was not his real face.

"When we rose in Republic City under the name of Equalists, who knew it would come this far?" Spreading his arms wide, he continued: "I knew. We knew. We believed in our hearts that equality could be achieved, and yet we were still opposed. And so we celebrate the victory of equality of seventy-four years ago, and we commemorate the losses and the gains.

"It is on this solemn occasion that reclamation of equality begins anew, and reparations for centuries of misuse of power is demanded in turn. All are equal in the Games. Each life is a life taken. Each death is a death given. May the odds, as always, be ever in your favour."

We heard applause from the other arenas as the Equalist supporters in those huge rooms watched his speech. The roaring sound of accord hit Amon like a wave from behind, and it only grew louder through his microphone. I looked around myself. I had to. There was not a single face displaying anything more than disappointed, quiet anger.

The screen flickered, and we were greeted with the white and blue image of the great hall of the Northern Water Tribe. Their leader, the Prime Minister Desna, was already standing at a podium before a gigantic congregation of benders and non-benders.

"My people," he said, his voice hoarse and whispery - coming from his wisened, cronish frame, it seemed almost out of place. "My people, we have come again to the Bender Games. This year, we choose a male water bender and a female non-bender from our Northern Tribe. Let's get to the choosing."

A woman in a traditional Water Tribe getup became the focus of the screen as the camera turned to accommodate her, rather than the Prime Minister. She stood by two large glass bowls, filled almost to the brim with pieces of paper.

"Ladies first," we heard Prime Minister Desna say.

The woman reached her hand deep inside the large bowl, swirled her hand around a little, and pulled out one of the paper tickets. She handed it to the Prime Minister, and he read out the name: "Arezu Minsheng."

There was a crying scream, and the intended woman was pulled forth from the crowd by two Equalists in full riot gear. She was only around fifteen years old. I realised that she must have had a lot of tickets in that bowl. Things worked differently in the districts. Our large bowls weren't even half the size of those, and yet we still had to pull from a pool of a few thousand tickets.

The woman in the native getup returned to the bowls, swaying her hips like she'd been told to, and stepped up to the other bowl of paper tickets. She dipped her hand in, she swirled it once more, and she pulled it out.

Prime Minister Desna said, "And the male water bender reaped for the seventy-fourth annual Bender Games is…"

His face dropped. We all watched it. Though the picture was cloudy, we could see the defeat in his eyes, and I felt the crowd move towards the edge of its seat along with me. The Prime Minister murmured the name, not quite loudly enough to be heard. An Equalist in a full face mask moved up alongside him, and nudged him at the elbow.

Desna turned, with anger as his own mask. His long, straight grey hair swayed a little before he turned back to the piece of paper. Slowly, surely, he straightened his back and spoke into the microphone: "Hazan Gul."

The crowd collectively took in a great breath. It was the Prime Minister's grandson. It was not unheard of for a member of what was effectively a royal family to be reaped, but this was the grandson of the Prime Minister of the Northern Water Tribe.

I hadn't even known that his name would be there.

* * *

I was lost. I recognised the dark greens and olives of the Earth Kingdom on the screen. I recognised the red and maroon of the Fire Nation halls. I heard names being called. I watched those who were little more than children pulled up before crowds and announced to be tributes. They'd be on trains and boats to Republic City already.

None of it mattered until I saw President Amon standing over us once more, ready to speak.

The great big screen was lowered, and the President cleared his throat at his microphone. Six great big globes full of names stood behind him on low pedestals.

"In this great arena, under these high ceilings and above these pools of water, for nearly one hundred years, benders have combated with each other for an audience. It is from this that the Bender Games is borne," he said.

I was focused intently on his mask. I could nearly feel eye contact. I always could. Like a painting, the eyes of Amon's mask always seemed to follow you.

"And so, we now move on to the reaping of tributes from the pool of current pro-benders in Republic City. Without further ado, the water benders."

A woman - a vision, in fact - came forward from the shadows behind Amon wearing a mockery of traditional Water Tribe clothing. She was beautiful, but her purpose was not. She was to be the representative of Water Tribe culture, something that water benders in Republic City tended to know little about.

She dipped her hand deep into the globe far to our left. She passed the ticket to Amon, and whispered in his ear, before clasping him by the elbow and grinning like everything was okay.

He leaned into the microphone and spoke: "From the element of Water, our female tribute is Sayuri of the Zebraboons."

The Batterflies had a match against the Zebraboons early in the year. We'd knocked them out but they'd been a good match, and they ranked five or six places below us. Sayuri was a good bender, but she now just looked dejected and weak as the Equalists descended into the crowd to pull her to her feet and drop her to the arena.

Cameras spun around her like a whirlwind. Her eyes were on the floor beneath her feet only. It was one of the greatest humiliations Amon could put onto a pro-bender. To stand in that arena - a place of power for us - and know that anything we did would result in our death.

Next came, "Our male tribute from the element of Water is… Ilhan of the Hog Monkeys." Once more, the Equalists pulled him out and dropped him to the arena.

And then it was about to be my moment. There was a moment to shine, and there was a moment to burn. If a bender meant to volunteer, they were supposed to wait until after the President had spoken the name of the tribute who had been reaped. I did not intend to wait until this moment. I intended to burn.

"From the element of Earth, our female tribute is Yun of the Ligers." She was a crier. It left the arena in silence as she was dragged screaming to the bridge, and then shoved across. She nearly fell into the pool below as she walked, dejected and low, to the arena to stand with the water benders.

In that lull in emotion, in that break where the air itself felt like anticipation, I felt something shift inside my legs. I felt myself preparing to stand.

"Our male tribute…" These were the three words the President managed before I stood up as though in slow motion and called out.

"I volunteer as tribute." My eyes never left his mask. I half expected his mouth to curl up into half a smile, but that tiny slit in the mask never changed shape.

I felt an arm on my own, and I turned quickly to see the black mask of an Equalist pulling me along the row of seats. The bridge was then under my feet and all at once, I stood below the President.

"What is your name, bender?" he asked.

"I am Bandon Sheng, sir. I am Bandon Sheng of the Batterflies."

I heard the long "hmmmm" echo in the microphone. He must know, I thought to myself. He must know that he'd taken Hana and Shan's bending away. Maybe he'd expected this. Maybe I was over-thinking it.

"Then our male tribute is Bandon Sheng of the Batterflies."

I felt my vision black out a little before realising I'd closed my eyes. I walked back to where the other benders stood. A crowd closed in around. Footsteps filled everything - all I could hear was thumping.

Fire benders were reaped. The six of us were moved. I didn't feel like I'd woken up until the next day when I woke up in a small room on a simple bed with an old man staring at me.

All he said was, "Good morning, tribute."


End file.
